Hazers Gonna Haze
by Lilly Tagloft
Summary: Freshman Raven Madison has a lot on her plate. She has to deal with dating, homecoming, and the annual hazing. Being an outsider has already set her apart, but the Senior Snob isn't making it any easier. Especially when his kisses are oh so confusing. Traven. AU. On hiatus.
1. Preview

_Hazers Gonna Haze_

_A story by Lilly Tagloft_

_This is a preview of what awesomeness is to come:_

* * *

"I'm not afraid of you," I stated, puffing out my chest a bit. I had to do my best to keep cool. I had to maintain control around the one person who could drive me crazy. Up the wall crazy; so crazy that it took all my energy not to let him leave his mark.

"Is that so?" His words came out smooth and full of confidence, something that never seemed to be lacking from the golden boy. "Tell me, how has high school been to you so far?"

I squinted my eyes at him. I had only been in high school for a few weeks and he wanted me to tell him what I thought?

"It sucks," I replied truthfully, bearing eye contact without too much trouble.

His sea foam orbs acquired an indisputable glint as I answered his condescending question. The tight smile on his face loosened to that of playfulness and every bit of his body language reeked of egotistical bastard. This guy-man had obviously been in his fair share of obnoxious situations and I can't be certain he hasn't already dealt with a freshman with an ego as big as his.

"Well, you better get used to it because this year is going to be absolute hell." The perfect smile only grew as he carried on talking. He probably got his kicks off tormenting others... That or he loved listening to himself talk. It was clear from the first time I saw him that he thought a lot about himself. It was proven when he even had the gull to come outright and threaten me like that.

"What makes you so sure about that?" I asked defiantly. I do not take kindly to handsome strangers telling me what to do.

"Come October second the hazings will begin and you, my dear freshman, are going to be my number one target. _Numbero uno._" He added emphasis by making mini-explosion noises while firing off finger guns. Absolutely juvenile.

"Come November you'll wish you never messed with me. I can guarantee it," I gave it right back to him, for a second letting go of my inhibition to hide out in the school shack around back.

"We'll see about that..." the guy in front of me said with a scoff. His luring smile put stress on the fact that this would definitely not be our last time bumping into each other.

"Raven," I said noncommittally to fill up the space in conversation, if you could call it that.

The golden boy smiled, each tooth seemed to radiate its own bout of perfection. His mouth opened, bearing a cool tongue that rolled off "Trevor" like he practiced for hours at home. No one says a name that appealing naturally. It has to be the only plausible reason why my heart did a weird dance inside my ribcage. He designed it to.

Without a thought or indication of any kind, this guy – Trevor – turned on his heel. He ascended the hallway, easily moving through the light traffic. Before he rounded the corner, his voice carried all the way back to me saying, "It isn't anything personal; hazers gonna haze!"


	2. Okapis and Vampire Bats

_Hazers Gonna Ha_ze

_A story by Lilly Tagloft_

_This is the beginning of what awesomeness is to come:  
_

* * *

_High school is supposed to be the best part of your life. The time that you reflect on and think of what happened to your crazy friends and who ended up with who. That time you laugh about over a couple of beers and talk about how much times have changed. High school is everything that your average person looks forward to. Unfortunately for this town, I am the epitome of unusual.  
_

_My name is Raven Madison and I'm here to bring you back through my freshman year at Dullsville High. Exciting, I know. As stated above, I am not your average high school girl, so it would be safe to assume that nothing about this year would be typical. Normally I would say, "Assume? Assuming only makes an ass out of u + me." Funny, I know, but it gets better. Trust me. My first year of high school would be unforgettable because of two things: one golden boy and the hazing.  
_

_Ominous, huh? Well, let me explain to you what was going on before you decide to bolt. You see, at Dullsville every year the freshman class (due to the school's general lack of population) goes through a 'hazing.' The lowest class is picked on relentlessly. We are talking tripping, pranking, stealing - but only in its finest form. Once said humiliating deed is accomplished, the predator marks the prey with their symbol. Whether it be physically written/drawn on their body or taken in pictures, each mark is equated to a point. Whomever has the most points by the end of the year becomes the unspoken rulers of the school. These hazings are classified as religion at Dullsville High and to be ruler is to be God. People bow down before you and beg to be within ten feet of you. It is certainly a nice change from being the kicked-down, frumpy freshman.  
_

_This ritual has gone on for years and minimum damage has occurred. Administration could not have possibly stressed safety more than they did. Nobody enjoys getting hurt, especially when they might have to deal with it for months on end. Mr. Dae, our outstanding principal, had a personal slogan: "We haven't had the need for a wheel chair ramp in over fifty years, let's not start now."  
_

_Now, for the golden boy... you will just have to find out that one with time. It won't take long till you're both acquainted; he makes an appearance early on. [I thought I would put that in for those of you curious-impatient crossbreeds who just **had** to know.] I cannot promise it is the sweetest or most romantic introduction ever, but it is what it is.  
_

_With those suspenseful words [hardly; I realize this] I think it is time I stop introducing this folklore and cut to the chase. I am not one to generally beat around the bush. Babbling is a horrendous thing and once started cannot be stopped. I mean, once you begin it just gets harder and harder to quit. Sort of like opium or cough syrup. Yeah, kids get high off of cough syrup. How outrageous is that? I learned that in health class my... Oh right.  
_

* * *

**Freshman Year  
Month: 0 . Week: 3 . Day: 1 .**

Everything was in single working order. I finally had my schedule down pat and committed my locker combination to memory. I was also on the road to discovering what cute guys I had in my classes. So far only two stood out as candidates. One was a grungy looking guy in my biology class who sported beanies and had killer bangs while the other was in my language class and had the deepest brown eyes and lots of band tee shirts. Luckily for me, I got to start the day staring (discretely of course) at those smoldering brown eyes. Unfortunately, that also meant that I had language bright and early with the most creepy teacher ever. I was usually a fan of creepy, but this was cat hoarder creepy compared to the macabre people I was used to.

Mrs. Sagar, extreme cat hoarder, always started off class with a quote. It was written in a deep blue color on the pristine white board in blocky lettering. Today the board read:

So come with me, where dreams are born  
and time is never planned.  
Just think of happy things and your heart will fly on wings forever  
in Never Never Land.

She stood at her desk for a couple of minutes surveying how we all reacted to her quote. Apparently pleased, the skin around his mouth lifted into a delicate grin. That was probably the first time she smiled in the entirety of this school year and it looked positively awkward on her sloped face.

"So class, can anyone tell me from whence this quote comes from?" Mrs. Sagar broke through the silence that laced the room. Immediately the entire classroom's hands went up. Everyone's that is except mine.

"It's from _Peter Pan_," a perky blonde announced from the opposite side of the room. Mrs. Sagar must have chosen her while I stared blankly at my desk. I don't watch Warner Brothers crap and I was way more interested in Nosferatu and Dracula than Peter Pan and Never Never Land. Even my taste as a preschooler was exceptional.

"I'm afraid to inform you that you are incorrect. Although, Miss Lambert, the quote did come from the play _Peter Pan_ the man who penned it is what a quotation is traditionally named after. So the correct answer would be J.M. Barrie. Barrie is known for his works _Peter Pan/Peter and Wendy_, _The Little __White Bird, _and _The Admirable Crichton_. This man was highly successful and didn't stand any taller than 5'3". Crazy, isn't it? Well, this man is an example of a master of literary fiction. And fiction is what we are going to focus on for the next couple of weeks. We'll read short stories in your books as well as writing a few of our own."

The entire class groaned. Just about every last person had zero interest in creative writing. Honestly, if I wanted to write about unicorns and talking kittens I would have signed up for writers workshop. I prefer sculpting to writing any day of the week.

"It's not nearly that bad," Mrs. Sagar attempted to reassure us. "You are only writing a couple of stories at most. The only ting that is keeping you from happiness is your overall attitude. Approach things with a smile and life will smile upon you." Then she let out a huge sigh as she extended her arms out from her sides. She looked like a lumpy human cross.

It's official - this teacher was a complete nut job. I wasn't the only one who was thinking it either. Snickering filled the classroom and band tees guy started to laugh outright. The smile on her face was plenty nightmare inducing and I began to laugh right along with everyone else. It's one thing to be an insane teacher, but it's a whole other level of insane if a teacher can embrace their true geekitude this early on in the school year. I could only imagine what was to come and it was not looking pretty...

**-x-**

Fourth period, the second to last period before lunch, was algebra. I absolutely, undeniably, indefinitely hate math with a passion similar between that of Red Sox Nation and Yankee Country. Each and every year up to this point I have failed math class. I never managed to get any higher than a D+. My mother even hired me a tutor (granted, it was one of Nerd Boy's friends) and my grade only seemed to plummet. But this year things just may turn around because I sit next to the smartest kid in the whole class: Becky Miller.

Becky has to be one of the most normal people I have ever met in Dullsville. Instead of wearing designer jeans and Forever 21 tees she wears overalls and Converse. Not only that, but her hair is naturally strawberry blonde and stick straight. She explained it to me last week about how she lives on a farm and her parents make her work out in the field so there's no use in her trying to get all beautified. She's all about hard work.

"Do you get number nine?" I asked her, pointing to one of the harder warm-up problems. She looked at her paper then back to mine before she explained what I did wrong. Apparently you're supposed to divide by both sides... I must have missed that somewhere along my failure of an academic career.

What I also decided I liked about Becky was the fact that she didn't sneer at me or treat me like I was dumber than her just because I couldn't do a simple math problem. Well, simple to her - I still found it pretty puzzling.

"What's your favorite animal?" Becky wondered aloud a few minutes later.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure she was in fact talking to me and not Courtney or whoever. When I found her liquid brown eyes were steadily directed towards me I was a bit surprised. We never talked about well... personal stuff.

It took me a few seconds to come up with the lame response, "Uhm... Vampire bats, I guess."

I wanted to slap myself. Her eyes stared past me as she bobbed her head up and down in acknowledgment. I figured I would try to give her an honest answer, but I didn't really have a lot of interests besides old television shows and monster movies.

"What about you? Do you have a favorite?" I tossed back a moment later, semi-attempting to patch the awkward breech in conversation.

"I like Okapis. I think they're pretty cool - kind of like patchwork dolls. Except, they're real and animals," Becky chatted away. The light blush on her face sold that she was cognizant of her babbling and that she knew she sounded ridiculous. It was slightly awkward, but kind of nice in the way that gets all the jitters out. It's as if it were that layer of foam rolling off a boiling pot that was filled with a bit too much water. "Does your family ever travel?"

"Uhm... We went to the Grand Canyon last summer. I don't really go outside in general. I'm more of a night owl."

More acknowledgment nods.

"We went to the Grand Canyon when I was five... My cousin threw the camera over the railing when my parents weren't paying attention."

"Oh shit!" I gasped. My parents would have strangled me (post Hippie Era, anyways).

Becky began to giggle uncontrollably after managing to breath out, "That's exactly what they said."

I joined in with her giggles which soon became laughter. We laughed as quietly as we could for a good few minutes, muttering things like "click" or "crumble tumble crunch" to fore long the end of our amusement. Once our laughter died down we were left with enormous smiles on our faces. I'm sure we looked ridiculous, but this class needed some serious spicing up.

"So uh," Becky started off after she cleared her throat of left over laughter, "do you want to walk with me to next period?"

I raised an eyebrow in response as she turned bashfully towards her papers. Walk with her to next period? I never walked with anyone before unless it was mandatory. It's not that I enjoyed the solitude, but more because no one wanted to taint their reputation. So I was a bit miffed at the thought of anyone actually wanting to talk _and_ walk with me. It was enormous progress compared to the last few years.

"Sure. What class are you heading to?"

She perked up at my answer and tried to fight her smile (unsuccessfully I might add).

"I have theatre with Mrs. Lucas."

"Is her husband named George?" I joked, alluding to one of Nerd Boy's favorite movie franchises.

"No, it's not." Becky laughed. I guess she had seen _Star Wars_ or at the very least heard of it. "What do you have next?"

I grimaced. "Gym." The worst class known to man and I had it right before lunch. I would have the pleasure of eating gross school lunches while being sticky with sweat. Oh joyous days are here again.

"Yuck. I have it first period, but at least the gym is near the theatre class so we should be all right," Becky encouraged, always keeping positive.

"And your hair didn't frizz out or anything?" I asked in astonishment. That was always my biggest horror when it came to exercise - my hair turning into one big frizzball along with the humidity.

"My hair is pretty tame. That, and I take a lot of shortcuts. I'm not very actively inclined," Becky admitted easily.

"Lucky you," I said right as the bell rang. We gathered up our things as the teacher reminded us of the homework. It was only ten question so I could easily do them tomorrow in third period... Or not at all.

We moved swiftly down the hallway - chatting about what we liked so far about school. Becky liked how she got to talk to something other than cows and I just liked how we got to arrive at eight-thirty, unlike in middle school when it started at seven-fifteen. As we reached the gym locker rooms I bid her ado and went into the crammed space. Multiple Bath & Body Works fragrances assaulted my nostrils as I made my way to my locker. I then changed lethargically into my beaten up uniform and out of my dark clothing. Once that was accomplished I waltzed out of there and into the gymnasium to my assigned spot.

Coach Harris was standing on the opposite side of the gym, facing the student body head on. He waited patiently as the last few kids trickled in, a volleyball resting on his hip. Once the final kid took their seat on the floor Coach addressed the class with a curt, "Just like last week we will continue our volleyball tournament. This week the teams will are the following..."

I zoned out as he listed off all the teams. I was the fourth to last person to be called and was quickly followed by Zoe Carter, Trevor Mitchell, and Felix Patterson. I had no idea who any of these people are. So I decided to follow the girl with the silver Zoe necklace that glowed against her tanned skin to wherever she went. She ended up going to the far net and quickly attached herself to a blonde guy that was currently entertaining another girl presumably on our team. Two other guys were talking animatedly about whatever Lonesome Thing dying.

Luckily, Coach Harris blew his whistle and everyone got into their position. I was shoved into the back left corner as others took their place around me. The team on the other side served the ball a minute after fetching it from the bin. It came soaring gracefully to the dark-haired guy to my right, who bumped it back with ease. The other team tried to hit it back, but it fell short of the net.

We all shifted one position and I was in the front left corner. Blonde guy served the ball five times before anyone even touched it. The sixth time we - and by we I mean just about everyone else - actually had a good game going back and forth. I wonder if Dracula was subjected to volleyball as a kid... He could have probably just popped the ball with his teeth and the game would be over. Oh, if only it were that simple in my case.

"Hit the ball!" One of the guys yelled, instantly drawing me out of my vampire fantasy. Before I could even reach out a hand the ball hit the wooden gym floor with an audible _thump._ Which was closely followed by male groaning (the un-sexy kind). We all switched once more, leaving me in the front and center.

As the opposing team figured things out I sensed someone was sneaking up behind me. My suspicions were confirmed as a charming voice spoke, "Why don't you leave the sports to me? I'm sure it'll save our record and your nails."

My eyebrows rushed up my forehead as I spun to face the "smooth" talker. (Un)surprisingly, it was the blonde girl magnet. I stared him down for a minute before responding, "Why don't you save your breath and go bother someone who cares?"

It was his turn for his blonde eyebrows to retreat behind his fluffy bangs.

By the time I turned around the other team had served the ball. It was heading towards me and I couldn't help but think that this was the perfect opportunity to showcase my athletic prowess. So, I threw my fist in the air to punch back the volleyball at the same time a guy called, "Mine!" Before I could stop myself, my knuckles rocketed into something hard. The thud against the hardwood floor and dead silence of those around me had me thinking it wasn't the volleyball that I socked.


	3. Juice Box

_Hazers Gonna Haze_

_A Story by Lilly Tagloft_

_This a continuation of said awesomeness:_

* * *

**Freshman Year  
Month: 0 . Week: 3 . Day: 1 .**

Coach Harris' whistle immediately filled up the gymnasium. Everyone who had not seen the blonde fall were now watching the situation intensely, myself included. His breathing was labored, whether from shock or anger I couldn't tell, and he had trouble pulling himself into a sitting position. I didn't even notice the red line trickling down his face until Coach exclaimed, "Shit Mitchell. You're bleeding!"

He appeared dazed as he touched a few fingers directly under his nose. Once the sticky red liquid made contact with his fingertips milliseconds later, his eyes turned directly on mine. I almost had to step back – I had never noticed those eyes before. Emotion had flooded them, making the green flare up against the tame blue coloring. His eyes were accusatory and he was without a doubt trying to make me feel guilty.

Not happening.

I folded my arms over my chest and gave him a look right back. This only seemed to frustrate him more.

The blonde did his best to hop off the floor spouting, "I'm fine, I'm fine." to all that protested his sudden movement.

Coach surveyed him one last time before declaring, "Go to the nurse and get yourself cleaned up. And you –" he turned and pointed straight at me "– go and help him get there."

"I don't know where the nurse's office even is," I admitted.

"Well, this will be a good learning experience for you. Now, both of you, leave," Coach Harris demanded, his voice becoming increasingly harder with every blood drop that hit the floor. Someone doesn't like messes.

By the time I turned back to face the blonde he was already halfway across the gym. I shrugged and went on my merry way, keeping a good distance behind. I followed him through various hallways filled with classrooms and labs. Sometimes kids spotted me through the window, but mostly I was ignored. It was nice because then I could go on thinking about whatever. I really enjoyed moments like this that I could have to myself. So when the blonde one entered a room marked _Clinic_ I stayed right where I was and just thought. Soon enough I was lost in a daydream. It was a bit hazy, but it was definitely a pleasant one.

I was awoken from my comfortable blur from the sudden change in atmosphere. I blinked my eyes and was alarmed by how close the blonde guy was. His blue-green eyes glared down at me, his vision seemed to slide down his curved nose and fall directly in my face. The ferocity behind those eyes was alarming. I had never seen such malice up close and personal. So, to make sure he was in fact there, I quickly raised my right index finger and poked his nose.

"Wha–" he blinked repeatedly, obviously confused, and backed away, looking at me like I was a lunatic. "What was that?"

"A poke. Come any closer and I'll do it again," I warned jokingly. Apparently we didn't the share the same sense of humor because he went right back to glaring.

"You practically break my nose and then you decide to poke it. Where's the logic in that?" He questioned accusingly.

"Where's the logic in you leaping into my fist?" I retorted, balling up my hands. If he wanted to go I would show him what a real punch was. Perhaps if I gave him a black eye it would teach him to stop squinting at me like I was the bad guy... But we all know blondes don't learn that quickly anyhow.

"I called for it!" he snapped, tuffs of blonde hair slid into his line of vision, covering his eyes. Those bright eyes.

"So? It was in my area," I defended. Honestly, he was getting completely overworked about his whole situation. It was an accident.

"I called for it. That automatically makes it mine. It's the golden rule of sports," the blonde one informed me with a sneer that could reduce a child to tears.

"I'm not into sports."

"That's apparent," he said cattily while glancing at my midsection.

"Uhm, excuse me?" I gasped. What kind of punk blames someone else for their preventable injury then calls them fat? Apparently guys who have heads big enough to be punched from three feet away on a volleyball court.

"Don't worry. It's nothing a jog or boyfriend couldn't take care of," he said saucily then winked at me. Yes, he spasmed only _one_ lovely eye in my general direction with a smarmy look that reeked of suggestion. It was completely and totally sickening to the point where my stomach began to clench and unclench. The experience was highly nauseating to say the least.

"Take me back to the gym," I demanded suddenly. It was out of pace with our conversation, but I couldn't care less. I was uncomfortable and did not want to be alone with him for a second longer.

"You don't know where it is?" he asked with a smirk.

"No, I don't. Now, can you take me back?" I snapped at him. I didn't want to mess around anymore. He got to the nurse, we shifted blame and claims, and now all I want to do is go back and change into something non-school colors.

He looked at me curiously, scanning my whole body for whatever he was trying to figure out. My stomach clenched up tighter the longer he held his observant gaze. So I decided to put a stop to it.

"Whatever," I muttered. "I'll find it myself."

I began to move back from whence I came. I was confidently moving along the empty halls until I hit a crossroad. I could either go left, right, or straight. There was not even a fifty percent chance of getting it right. The odds at this point were not in my favor. My head dropped a bit at the less than perfect scenario when something caught my eye. There were speckles of half-dried blood directly in front of me. If he bled this close to the nurse's station then there must be more towards the gym. Although there were hesitations along the way, I was able to make it back without incident.

I peered inside the gym and found it be empty. I shrugged internally and turned to go into the locker room. I could hear the chatter and giggling halfway down the hallway, but once I crossed over the barrier into the girls locker room things became quieter. The obnoxious laughter was replaced with judging glances and hushed tones and it could not have been any more awkward.

I put in the combination to my locker, ignoring the stares from girls around me. I was the last one in and the only one not sitting around or fumbling with my hair. I took my time getting dressed, using it as time to calm down and get in deep, soothing breaths. By the time I had gotten my fishnets, tattered skirt, and beaten down gray Converse on the bell had rang and the majority of the Dullsville female population poured into the hallway. I then finished changing by putting on my multiple tank tops and bracelets before joining everyone else. The hallway was more or less empty so it wasn't too difficult navigating my way to the lunch room. The only problem I generally had was finding a table.

It always seemed as though by the time I got there all the decent tables in plain sight were taken and I was left to walk around aimlessly with my sad sack of a lunch until I found the one pushed against the corner with all the spider webs imaginable. I am all for the existence of spiders and things spooky, but not so much around my food.

It appeared as though the gods were smiling upon me today because a faint light shown through the one skylight-esque window onto a table more towards the wall. It was perfect in every way and I just had to nab it before anyone else could. So I momma walked (you've seen the speed walking moms. You know what I'm talking about) all the way across the cafeteria and sat down without a problem. I smiled to myself while hap-hazardously dropping my backpack onto the empty bench beside me. What a beautiful little table and all to myself!

I happily unpacked the contents of my Emily the Strange themed lunch box, separating my sandwich and cheetos from the healthy stuff my mother packed. I looked over the left over food items; there was an apple and grace juice box. Ugh, nothing says freshman like a juice box. I closed the lid a moment later, concealing the juvenile food and started to nom on my sandwich. It was my favorite – peanut butter and honey on white bread. Wheat bread and honey just do not compliment each other nearly as well. The white bread is all mushy and sticks to the roof of your mouth with the other gooey wonderfulness whereas the wheat will sit around in our pantry for months on end, becoming rock solid and undesirable.

As I picked up the second half of my sandwich (yes, I know having my sandwich cut in half was just as bad as a juice box... The crust was missing too) when a hoard of guys appeared before me. Many of them were obnoxiously large and wore letterman jackets. In the front of the pack was the blonde one, his nose glowing slightly from our earlier interaction. His blue-green eyes zeroed in on me as he calculated his next move.

"Go," he said precisely and articulated. His gaze held onto mine as I squinted up at him.

"Make me," I challenged, shifting my accusatory glance at some of the beefier guys. They didn't curdle in fear or anything, but there was some definite eyebrow raiseage going on. They looked inquisitively at their leader, curious to see what his response would be.

"I'm not going to make a scene because some freshman wants attention. Now _go_," He emphasized the last sentence, his green eyes brimmed with malice. His lips formed a tight line and his tanned hands gripped harshly onto the purple tray in hand.

"All right Blondie, here's the thing," the beefy guys quieted around him as his malicious eyes widened in surprise, "I was here first. I don't care if you and your meat head pals sit here, but I am not moving. So either you can sit down, Zack Morris hair and all, or you can walk away."

The floppy-haired guy grimaced as his back up chuckled with amusement. As he loosened his death grip on the plastic tray his face began to relax as well. His eyes looked less like sickly ice and more like fizzling sea foam while his tight line of a mouth transformed into a broad, fake smile. With the overly enthusiastic smile covering a quarter of his face he chimed to his friends, "You heard her guys. Let's all pile in."

Taking their cues, the muscular friends squeezed in beside me. Two warm bodies pressed up against mine, almost popping me off the bench. This was the closest I had ever been to a guy in my whole life and it wasn't exactly pleasant. Boys smelled bad, to start off with, and these two jocks stunk of fungal infections and dried blood. How does that even happen? Second of all, they took up a lot of room with their elbows. The two beside me were practically batting my lunch box as they settled in with their mountain of food. And last, but certainly not least, they were all total slobs! One guy had the audacity to snatch the last of my peanut butter and honey sandwich while his friend threw my book bad to the linoleum flooring. The conversation of some "hot bitch" Jennifer Warren got brought up and her butt was mentioned at least twice afterward. It was disgusting.

The golden boy beamed from across the table, clearly smug about how uncomfortable I was. His teeth glowed under the harsh, cafeteria lights and his laughter made me want to laugh along. Even if he was a complete ass he was still charismatic. I didn't get why he had such a weird effect on me, but I knew it would not last long. In fact, it died shortly after his praise of Jennifer's LOVE Pink pants began. I _so_ did not want to hear this. Therefore, to tune them out I went for my apple. Chewing on it would create enough noise that I could easily find a rhythm and block them all out; it was the perfect plan. I began to execute it by opening my lunch box without thinking of the possible consequences. As I reached for my apple the blonde's voice seemed to flush out all the other chit-chat as he spoke in a weird voice, "And I totally squeezed her huge– juice box?"

The table was silent for a second before all the guys started busting out laughing. The longer they howled the redder his face got. My sides were nearly split in two once his fellow friends shouted out stuff like " 'Ey, juice box boy!" and "He doesn't like bj's, only jb's!"

Juice box boy was about to say something in response before he was cut off by a slender boy with shaggy hair sitting next to him. "Come on guys, lay off. I mean, who wants legs when you can have a juice box?" the guy spoke, becoming closer to a laugh the longer he did so. The table shook as meaty hands banged on it and the lid of my lunch bag flopped and then fell to cover the contents beneath.

"Go to hell," he muttered as the dark-haired guy beside him wiped away a few tears.

The blonde pushed against the table, making a move to get out of the embarrassing situation.

"While I'm there why don't you get me a juice box, juice box man?" a guy towards the other end of the table called out, alluding to Will Ferrell's exchange with Mike Ditka in _Kicking and Screaming_.

"Way to go Bing Bong!" a guy near him cheered before they slapped each others' hands.

Juice box boy glared at the two before storming out of the cafeteria. As I zipped up my lunch box I couldn't help but smile. I had won.

**-x-**

**Freshman Year  
Month: 0 . Week: 3 . Day: 4 .**

The past couple of days have been pure hilarity. Word of the blonde's juice box fetish has spread and started a riot over Facebook. Girls of all ages and popularity took pictures of themselves with juice boxes and tagged him in it. One girl even taped a juice box over the crotch of her pants and commented, "Wanna squeeze my jb? (;" Needless to say, he untagged himself from all of them and proceeded to post statuses about his love of soccer and pretty much anything other than juice boxes.

He glared whenever we happened to look at each other in gym, as if to blame me for his humility. Our volleyball unit was ending tomorrow and it was not looking pretty. The blonde was easily able to score us ten points in a single round against any team, but instead he decided to serve the ball as hard as he could into the back of my head every time he got a chance. By the end of this week I would definitely have a few welts and multiple bruises. Joyous days are here again.

The joke was on him though because at lunch I took the juice box out that my mother had packed out of my lunch box and placed it in the area of bench in which he usually sat. So when he came trotting up to the table with the other jocks that were lagging behind he just plopped onto the empty space, the juice box exploding underneath his weight. He jumped up wildly, the contents of his tray flying, as he inadvertently showed the entire cafeteria his newly stained khakis. His whole butt was covered in dark purple and little trails of purple coloring were making their way down his pant legs. As the blood rushed to his face (nearly matching the color of his cherry red polo) I was high-fived by the intimidating guys crowded around me. They laughed throughout the whole lunch period and congratulated me continuously.

"You're really gaining ground, Raven. I hear people talking about you all the time," Becky mentioned to me as we walked to biology. It was the last period of the day and I couldn't wait to go home and sleep.

"Seriously? Have I overshadowed the juice box king?" I jokingly asked.

"Your names pretty much go hand-in-hand at this point. Although you don't get laughed at nearly as much," Becky giggled, recalling stories she had overheard. She has quite the keen ears for gossip. Being shy and often times pushed to the back burner of peoples' minds, it's simple for her to overhear some of Dullsville High's dirtiest secrets. In a way, Becky was my personal tabloid.

"Hopefully it stays that way. Bye!" I called after her as she turned down the hallway to her Zoology class. Most people only took it because of the field trip they take to the zoo at the end of the year, but Becky was actually into animals and caring for them. She was genuinely interested in knowing their subgroups and why a chicken is different from a llama. It was the perfect class for her to end the day on.

I walked to my desk near the middle of the room. Madison was smack dab in the middle of the alphabet so it would only be fitting that I would be seated in the center of the classroom. I was constantly called on in this class and it stunk. I didn't have a clue half of the time and it only got worse. Mrs. Addleman's material just kept piling on top of each other. At this point we were supposed to know all the parts of the cell and their specific jobs. The only think I know is the nucleus and that is has a neutral charge... or something like that.

Mrs. Addleman was going over what a lipid was and it's general function was when I got a tap on my right shoulder. I turned slightly and my gaze traveled from the slightly bent finger up the muscly arm to the face of an absolute angel. His hanging bangs instantly made my stomach kick. The kid with the beanies touched me! I was squealing so hard on the inside that I began to shake a little on the outside.

"What?" I asked in a hushed tone once I calmed myself down. I could not risk the old bat using echo location to figure out it was me talking. She'd call on me for sure.

"Take this," he spoke softly, a warm feeling spreading over me. Did I mention before how hot he was? He had this skater-type haircut with hanging bangs that were always perfectly straight. For the most part his beanie was the same color of his fitted jeans. Today they were both maroon and he had a stuffed belt hanging loosely around his hips. His shirt was baggy compared to his jeans and the pitch black color complimented the dark hair that made his smokey gray eyes pop. All in all he was completely breath-taking.

I took the note conspicuously out of his hands. It was folded up neatly, obviously intending to be presentable. I opened the lined paper one crease at a time before, a minute later, I saw the printed black ink pertaining the message:

**[ Here are my digits. Shoot a text my way sometime ]**

I quickly folded the paper back up and stuck it in one of the smaller compartments of my bag. As I did so, I couldn't help but smile. One of the cutest guys ever just gave me his number _and_ he wanted me to text him. How amazing was that? It was beyond amazing! Other than Blondie's dark purple butt stain, getting his number (without having to gather the courage to do it myself) was definitely up there on the top ten list of awesome things that have happened in my life so far.

Once my heart rate slowed slightly and I was able to breath properly I fixated my attention on the Powerpoint ahead. It made absolutely no sense, but who really cares about mitochondrion when boys were on your mind? I did my best to take notes though, but somehow hearts would overlap every other word.

After half an hour of doodling and wistful thinking the bell rang, allowing me to ponder anxiously whether or not I should text him from the comfort of my own home.

* * *

**(A/N: I probably should have warned you before hand. I'm horrible when it comes to planning out things. I was kinda thinking about Raven being an absolute loser, but at this point it's looking like Trevor might be. Who knows... It takes a bit for a complete idea to form in my head and I'm just getting on the basics of how I may want the story to go. For the most part I'm one of those people who pull stuff out of their butt once they begin. But just remember this: no matter what plot twists come along the way Traven will always prevail :) That, and thank you for reading (AND REVIEWING :D if you choose to do so). Much love!)**


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